Whispers in the Dark
by Kalliope1990
Summary: Formerly Titled: "Lucky Number Thirteen". Agent Moreau is an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. put on babysitting duty when Loki is imprisoned upon the Helicarrier. Nobody could have forseen what transpired between an Asgardian hell-bent on world domination, and a lonely little agent that just wants to die. Loki/OC - Work in Progress
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything in this story except Agents Moreau, Kingston, Olivier and Saunders. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders.**

**Authors notes at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

It was five o'clock in the morning, and a tired and frustrated Directory Fury sat behind his desk, fingertips pressed together as he looked at the young agent sitting opposite him. He regarded her coolly, before flicking his gaze over the report on his desk. The Agent sat up straight in her chair, calm and collected, her face serene and patient, hands folded in her lap; just waiting. Her slate blue eyes looking into his dark brown eye, not defiantly, not submissively, just impassively.

"Agent Moreau, do you know why you are here?" He asked calmly with a hint of frustration.

"Yes, Director Fury," was the agent's serene, but clear, reply.

"Do you understand why we cannot accept this kind of behaviour?'

"Yes, Director Fury."

"Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

"No, Director Fury."

Directory Fury let out a sharp breath through his nose as he sat back in his chair. "Agent Moreau, you are one of our best up-and-coming infiltrators; why are you continually in my office being reprimanded for sheer idiocy?"

"To be fair, Directory Fury, this is only the third time I have been sent to your office in six months," Agent Moreau replied, as calm and serene as ever.

"That's because you've only been _caught_ three times in the last six months!" Directory Fury snapped. "You broke in to a _restricted area_! If it weren't for the fact you put the air vent back on upside down, we would never have even known you were in there!"

"Precisely, Director Fury," Agent Moreau replied softly, with a ghost of a smile that was gone before it arrived.

Fury sighed shortly, throwing his hands up slightly. "Agent Moreau, you are to be placed on maximum security prisoner surveillance. Maybe working a job where you will be watched like a hawk will curb you of these irrational tendencies. Your detail starts immediately. Agent Coulson is waiting outside to escort you. Dismissed!"

"Sir!" Agent Moreau stood and saluted sharply, before turning and striding out the door, and saluting Agent Coulson. "Agent Coulson, sir!"

"At ease, Agent," Agent Coulson replied as Moreau fell into step behind him. "You let yourself get caught again."

"Yes, sir," Moreau sighed softly. "It gets boring when you don't get caught."

"And nobody knows just how good you are if you never get caught, am I right?" Coulson replied.

"Genius demands gratification, sir," Moreau sighed again. "I can give you a detailed breakdown of every nut and bolt in every restricted area in this place, but nobody is going to know just how good I am unless I let myself get caught on rare occasions."

"You could do what every other infiltration agent in training does, and just wait for the assigned training missions," Coulson suggested.

"With all due respect, sir, they're a doddle. I could do them half asleep. I like to think of my 'escapades' as extra-curricular activities," Agent Moreau grinned slyly to herself.

"Extra-curricular activities that could see you thrown out of S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Moreau," Agent Coulson replied in a terse, warning tone. "Remember that. Director Fury will only tolerate such insubordination so long, or somebody will reach above him, and have you thrown out. Your _father_ could throw you out! Fury only tolerates this behaviour because he _knows_ you let yourself get caught. He knows that if you pulled your head in, you could one day be an exceptional agent.

This behaviour is beneath you, Agent Moreau. Getting black marks like this against your permanent record just because you want to show everybody how good you _think_ you are, or prove something to your father, is not worth your career, or your life, if you are ever considered a serious security threat. Think about that a while."

_What life?_ Agent Moreau thought sadly to herself as she dutifully followed Agent Coulson through the labyrinthine corridors that made up the Helicarrier. They stopped as Agent Coulson opened the door to one of the maximum security holding areas and ushered Agent Moreau inside. It was a cavern of a room with a huge, round, glass holding tank in the middle. A control panel stood off to one side, the displays glowing softly. Pacing in the middle of the holding cell was a tall, dark-haired man, wearing a strange green, gold and black outfit, reminiscent of a modern interpretation of Norse armour.

Normally, Moreau was the type to make a cheeky comment, but with Agent Coulson's warning ringing in her ears, she stayed silent and waited to be instructed.

"What is this you have brought to me, Agent Coulson?" The man asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. "Another young agent to be awed by the might of S.H.I.E.L.D. in capturing a god?"

"Loki," Coulson greeted civilly. "This is Agent Moreau. She has been placed on surveillance detail. Basically, she's your new babysitter."

"Ah, a lamb sent to watch the wolf in his cage," Loki chuckled darkly. "Do not fear, little one, for I cannot escape." He spread his hands and took half a step back to indicate his prison cell.

This irked her. "I do not fear you," Agent Moreau replied with disdain. "A shark in an aquarium is more of a threat to me than a defeated 'god' in a glass jar."

"She has fire, Coulson," Loki grinned. "Do you think she would be so bold if it weren't for this?" He tapped a finger against the glass wall, and grinned predatorily at Agent Moreau.

Agent Coulson did not deign to reply to the Asgardian, turning to Agent Moreau instead.

"Agent Moreau, your hours are 0500 to 2100 inclusive. You are not to leave your post until you are released for dinner service in the mess at 1700, and you are to return by 1800 sharp. You will need to take a packed lunch at breakfast service, or organise for a friend to bring you lunch-"

"Packed lunch it is," Moreau muttered darkly under her breath.

Coulson continued, seemingly unfazed by the interruption, "-ablution breaks are to be kept to a minimum. This area is kept on twenty-four hour surveillance, we will know if you wander off. Any further questions?"

"Sir, no, sir!" Agent Moreau saluted.

"Very well. Good day, Agent Moreau," Coulson nodded. As he walked passed her, he whispered to her. "Prove yourself, Moreau. You have such promise; don't squander it on childish behaviours."

"Sir," Moreau replied softly as the huge steel door hissed closed. She turned and looked at Loki, who had been watching and listening intently. "What are you looking at, Frosty?" she snapped shortly.

Loki tutted softly. "That's hardly polite, young Agent. What have I done to anger you?"

"Sorry," Moreau sighed and replied grudgingly. She looked around and dragged a pair of uncomfortable looking fold away chairs over from outside the observation office, setting them up to face one another at a slight angle to the glass prison. She sat in the chair facing the captive, and propped her feet up on the other one.

Loki chuckled at her manner. "You do not seem thrilled with your assignment, little Agent…?"

"I'm ambivalent, to be perfectly honest," Moreau shrugged, nibbling a fingernail. "It's an assignment; I do as they command." She screwed up her nose a little at her last comment.

"Ah," Loki offered no further comment, instead inspecting his 'new babysitter', as Coulson had dubbed her.

She was small and skinny. She couldn't be more than 5'3" tall, and she was lean with a wiry build. Her hair was obviously very long, the colour of fresh blood, but tightly restrained in a severe bun. Her face was a delicate oval, sprinkled lightly with freckles from a childhood spent playing in the sun, her eyes were distant at the moment, and the dark grey-blue of heavy storm clouds. Her nibbling of her nails brought his attention to her mouth, small & soft looking, above a stubborn chin.

Loki watched her as she just sat there quietly. She was obviously worried about something, he could tell that by her distant gaze and the way she was destroying her nails. He surmised by her apathetic attitude, and Coulson's overbearing one, that this girl was obviously in trouble for something, and babysitting him was her punishment.

"What was it you did?" he asked after a few moments silence.

"It's not important," Moreau responded distantly.

"Such a pretty face should not look so burdened," Loki tried to coerce her through charm.

She scoffed gently in response. "Nice try, Silvertongue. I've read stories about you; I'm not going to be swayed by a few hollow words."

"You've read stories about me, Agent Moreau?"

"A few myths and legends," Moreau nodded, inspecting her mauled fingers.

Loki could tell that she had no further desire to speak, so he returned to his pacing, occasionally flicking a glance in her direction. He was thinking himself now, trying to think how best to manipulate this reticent little woman into doing his bidding. He had no desire to be trapped in this glass box any longer than he had to, and if he could get this girl to let him out as soon as his plan was in play, he would. No resource will go untapped, and a willing agent inside S.H.I.E.L.D. could be an asset in coming days. He decided to persist in his attempts to speak with her, even if she did not respond.

"How long is your security detail, Agent Moreau?"

She shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. I just do as I'm told."

"Have you always been such difficult company, you reticent little-?" he bit off his sentence so as not to offend a potential ally.

Moreau just looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Exasperating creature!" Loki ground out under his breath. "A mighty god attempts to extend polite conversation, and you spurn him?"

"I'm an atheist," Agent Moreau replied with a shrug. "And you're not 'a mighty god'; you're a captured alien in a glass jar. I'm surprised they haven't started running tests on you, yet. But, I suppose as the son of a the king, you get some sort of diplomatic immunity."

"Odin is not my father!" Loki snapped in response.

"I didn't say Odin," Moreau countered lightly. "Laufey is the King of Jotunheim, is he not?"

Loki was taken aback by her knowledge. And eyed her warily as he paced back and forth in front of her slowly. "Do they give all surveillance agents such in depth knowledge of their charges?"

"No."

"Then how can you know this?!"

"I just told you that I read. Your people, Asgardians and Jotunns alike, have visited Earth in the past. Humans kept records of these events, and the people involved."

"So when you found out that you were to guard me, you decided to do some research?"

"No. I just found out that I was assigned this task this morning. When did you get here?"

"But a few hours ago," Loki replied, his tone had returned to one more civil now that he appeared to be gaining ground. "That is why your knowledge surprised me. Did you begin your research when last my brother and I ventured to this backwater planet?"

"No. It was a childhood interest of mine," Moreau replied, reaching for her bag and taking out a book. Maybe if she had a visible barrier to distance herself from him, he would leave her in peace. She had no wish to talk. She was here to do her sentence, just as he was here to do his. "Speaking of reading, if you'll excuse me?"

Loki sighed loudly, and went and sat on the floor, against the wall to Moreau's right. The two sat in silence, neither companionable nor stony, just silence, for the next few hours. Loki plotted, and Moreau slowly chewed her way through her novel.

Around lunchtime, three other agents came into the holding area. One was a tall red-headed boy, solid and muscular, the other two were girls, one with cropped blonde hair and a tall willowy build, the other a long-haired brunette, short and stocky, but not as short as Moreau.

"Hey, looks like Doctor Moreau found a new freak to play with!" The blonde jibed to her friends as they walked in, who tittered appropriately. "You going to use him in one of your weird experiments?"

Moreau didn't respond at all. She didn't even move, save to turn her page.

"Hey! Freak! Agent Kingston spoke to you!" The boy, who's nametag read Olivier, snapped, waving a hand in front of Moreau's face, but still she refused to acknowledge their presence.

"Think you're too good for us, just because your daddy's on the World Security Council, hey, Morose?" sniped the stocky brunette, who's nametag read Saunders.

Loki started paying attention to these idiot children after these words, but remained seated so as not to draw attention to himself, listening carefully for any other information that might be useful. Moreau still refused to acknowledge her peers' existences, turning yet another page.

The blonde, Kingston, cuffed Moreau across the back of the head. Not enough to hurt badly, just enough to annoy, but still Moreau refused to bite.

"What, daddy didn't send anybody for you to talk to, so you're hanging out with the prisoners now? Is that so they can't run away from you, Morose? Or jump off the runway like that Jameson kid did?" Kingston laughed cruelly at her little jibe.

Just as Kingston cuffed Moreau over the head once more, a security guard came in yelling at the three intruders, who all jumped like startled rabbits.

"HEY! This is a restricted area! You do not have clearance to be here! I'll be reporting this to your superior officers! Get. OUT!" he waited until the three had quickly made their way out the door, before turning to speak a bit softer to Moreau. "Agent Moreau, they didn't bother you none, did they?"

"No, thanks, Devin," Moreau replied with a small smile at the guard.

"A-are you sure?" he ventured carefully. "I heard them say Jameson-"

"It's _fine_, Devin, really. But thanks for the intervention," Moreau forced a larger smile and waved as Devin returned from whence he came, but once he left, her face crumbled and she buried herself in her book once more. If it weren't for the light sound of Moreau's gentle sniff a few moments later, Loki wouldn't even realised she was crying.

Intrigued, he stood up and walked over to stand in front of her behind the glass.

"Was it the blows, or her words that have injured you so?" Loki asked softly. He was hoping to try and find a way into her confidences by asking about her plight. He truly had no interest in the reasons for her mewling.

"Back off," Moreau replied, frowning harshly to hold back the tears. "Go back to your plotting in the corner."

"I was merely inquiring as to your distress, Agent Moreau," he countered, feigning hurt. "There's no need to be abrasive."

Moreau stood up to stare Loki in the eyes, dark blue meeting pale green.

"I might be weak, but I am not an idiot," Moreau snapped. "I know you heard what that troglodyte Saunders said about my father being on the World Security Council. Sorry to disappoint you, but you could kill me right here and now, and my father wouldn't treat my death any differently than any other low-ranking agent's. You will _not_ coerce me into giving you any information, and my life has no worth to you beyond the possibility of manipulating me into letting you out, which I have no intention of doing. I'm in enough trouble as it is. Leave. Me. In. _Peace_!"

Loki was surprised at the girl's outburst, as it had not been what he expected at all. He held his hands up in a surrender motion, and backed away, returning to his seat on the floor. Moreau stalked down the stairs and grabbed a tissue out of her bag, angrily wiping her face & blowing her nose before returning to her own seat and her book.

Agent Moreau did not speak another word for the rest of her shift.

* * *

**Authors Notes:****  
**

**The 'Doctor Moreau' quip from Agent Kingston was in reference to a 90s horror movie called "The Island of Doctor Moreau" starring Marlon Brando, Val Kilmer and David Thewlis. Definitely worth a watch.  
**

**Please Review! :3 ~ Kalliope**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything except Agent & Councilman Moreau. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders. **

**Authors Notes at the end of the chapter.**

**Warnings for Psychological Abuse, Partial Nudity and Coarse Language.**

* * *

Moreau woke up early the next morning, as always, long before her bunkmate, having a short, cold shower in their shared ablutions to wake herself up. She quickly got dressed in her blue jumpsuit uniform, and dressed her hair in it's usual tight bun. When her hair was loose, it fell to her waist, wavy and wild. It was easier to keep it long. There was no need to cut it to keep it in a style, and it could easily be bound up out of the way.

She quickly and quietly made her way to the mess. She grabbed a breakfast wrap, packed her lunch and a snack, then made her way to Loki's cell before the first shift's breakfast rush arrived. She was early to her post, so she sneaked in through some air vents so that the airlock door opening wouldn't wake the prisoner. Once inside, she curled up at the bottom of the metal stairs, leaning against the rails. She pulled her bag close to her, taking her breakfast wrap, a book and a compact reading light out of its depths, opening up to her page and engrossing herself in the story as she nibbled.

Loki, however, was not asleep, as Moreau had surmised. He watched her creep in silently from his vantage point on the thinly padded floor, and curl up so small at the bottom of the stairs.

"You're up early, Agent Moreau," he commented mildly, grinning softly to himself when she jumped.

"Shit!" she hissed under her breath as she jumped in shock. "Well, good morning to you, too!" Moreau grumped, pulling the cling film back over her wrap, checking her top for any spilled food as she stood up, one finger still in her book.

"I thought your watch did not begin until five o'clock?"

"If you're not ten minutes early, you're late," Moreau quoted, putting her book back in her bag.

"Then you are most certainly early," Loki replied, sitting up, crossing his feet at the ankles, arms wrapping around his legs, knees in the crooks of his elbows, hands clasped in front of himself. "I would estimate that its only four thirty."

Agent Moreau checked her watch & shrugged, "thereabouts." She grabbed her plastic chair from yesterday, placing it back in the same spot, sitting down with her feet on the seat, legs crossed at the ankles, unwrapping her breakfast once again.

"You seem very enthusiastic for somebody who said that they were ambivalent about their assignment…?"

"Nothing better to do." Moreau was suddenly very interested in the hash brown inside her breakfast wrap. "No point dilly-dallying when there's a sentence to be served."

Loki nodded once, slowly.

"You have an admirable work ethic, Agent Moreau. It is a consequence of your lack of friends, or is it the source?" Loki tried needling her for a response.

"Both," Moreau replied softly, picking at a piece of bacon. "And neither."

Loki huffed a breath out of his nose. "They call me the Trickster, and Master of Lies, but you, a simple human, cannot even give me a straight answer to a simple question."

Moreau just shrugged and continued to pick at her food aimlessly. "I could give you a straight answer, but I doubt it would be in the direction you want."

"Then will you answer my question?"

"I did."

"Properly!"

"I did."

"You know that is not what I mean!"

"I know."

"By the All-Father!" Loki swore, throwing his hands up in the air and pacing around his cell. "I swear, you have been sent here solely to torment me!"

"Your own medicine is the most bitter pill to swallow," Moreau replied, a small smirk hidden as she took a bite of her meal. She had to admit, it was fun to make him frustrated.

"You are a most vexing woman, Agent Moreau," Loki huffed.

"Thank you," Moreau replied with a ghost of a smile.

"That was not intended as a compliment."

"I know."

"Yet you took it as such anyway?" Loki grinned maliciously before continuing. "How lonesome is your life that you would take an insult from a criminal as a compliment?"

Moreau looked Loki in the eyes, her slate-blue ones cold and dead as they met his cruel, pale green.

"How empty and hollow is your life, that you seek to torment somebody who has nothing?"

Loki was taken aback by her empty, lifeless, grey eyes, and her softly spoken, yet cutting words, but he did not let it show. He sneered at her, looking her up and down like something he would scrape off his shoe.

"Pathetic," he scoffed. "This is why you humans should be ruled. You are weak!"

"And you're a spoiled bully," Moreau responded softly. "You were raised a prince, in wealth and luxury, but even knowing that you are the younger son and would not inherit the throne, you demanded it; you demanded more. You lied to your brother, told him that your father was dead and your mother had shunned him, but he still loves you, wants to protect you, and take you home. You double-crossed and killed your birth father to further your own ends, and have the impudence to say that it was all for the father who raised you.

Your family loves you, yet you spurn them, determined to wallow in your own self-pity and anger whilst you destroy everything around you like a child having a tantrum. _You_ are pathetic, Loki of Asgard, and weak, for you cannot bring yourself to return the love and compassion that so many selflessly bestow on you, undeserving as you continually prove yourself."

Loki stood, silent and almost dumbstruck as Moreau gave her piece. She did not raise her voice, but her words rang in his ears in the silence of the room. When she finished, she stood quietly and walked out of the holding bay, throwing the barely-eaten breakfast wrap in the bin on her way out. He shook himself angrily, and stalked around his cell as the door hissed shut behind her.

How _dare_ she say such things to him? _About_ him?! Stupid, small-minded human! Who was she to judge him, a prince of Asgard? What did she truly know of him besides the fairytales she'd read as a child?

He continued to pace angrily around his cell until she returned. Her face was white as she collected her book and chair, and placed them by the door, as far away from Loki as she could get without abandoning her post. Suddenly Agent Coulson's voice came from the comms device on her wrist.

"Copy, Agent Moreau; stand to attention. Director Fury is inbound with Councilman Moreau to view the prisoner."

"Copy, Agent Coulson. Director and Councilman inbound," Agent Moreau responded formally, before hissing to herself "Fuck! That's all I need!"

She threw her book in her bag and folded away the chair quickly, leaping up the stairs to stand at attention beside Loki's cage, facing the airlock door. A few moments later, Director Fury entered the holding bay with a tall, imposing man in a crisp suit not half a step behind him. Agent Moreau saluted formally.

"Director Fury, sir! Councilman Moreau, sir!"

"At ease, Agent Moreau," Director Fury replied, just as formal. Councilman Moreau did not acknowledge the young agent as he strode up the stairs and passed her to regard the captive. Agent Moreau stayed facing the airlock door.

"So, this is the Asgard?" the Councilman sniffed disdainfully. "Is all this," he gestured at the intricate holding system, "truly necessary? He does not appear to be anything more than a man. I thought this thing was built to contain a monster?"

"I assure you, Councilman Moreau, that this is indeed necessary," Fury replied calmly. "We have yet to get a full detail on Loki's abilities, despite the full co-operation of his brother, Thor. He may not be the monster this cage was built for, but it will hold him, nonetheless."

"Adoptive brother," Loki amended with a tight smile. "And even he does not know the full extent of my abilities. You are wise to treat me with such caution, Director Fury."

"If he is so dangerous, why is _she_ guarding him?" Councilman Moreau did not avert his gaze from Loki. "Surely you have better qualified agents?"

"Agent Moreau is more than capable, Councilman," Fury replied evenly. "She is one of our best and brightest."

"Pah!" Councilman Moreau scoffed loudly, waving a hand dismissively. "I expect those bureaucratic idiots trying to claw their way up the ranks to pander to me like this, but I expected more from you, Director Fury. Exaggerating the whelp's progress in an attempt ingratiate yourself with me is most irritating. I won't have a bar of it."

"Sir, with all due respect," Fury started. "She is one of our best infiltrator agents. She can get into areas-"

"Enough! I'll hear no more about it! My focus here is this Asgard. If I wanted to hear about her progress, I'd talk to her myself," Councilman Moreau snapped. "When was the last time I communicated to you directly, girl?" He didn't even look at Agent Moreau as he spoke to her.

"That was the first time in approximately three years, sir," Agent Moreau responded evenly, still looking straight ahead, no hint of emotion on her face or in her voice, as if she was merely answering a basic debriefing question.

"There, you see?" The Councilman spoke to Fury now. "I have no interest in her. Dismiss her. She can return to her post when we're done. Useless child. If her brother were still alive, I'm sure he wouldn't be such a disgrace."

"Agent Moreau, you are dismissed," Fury gave the order calmly, but inside he was seething.

"Sir!" the agent saluted and left, standing to attention outside the airlock door.

Loki had watched this interaction with an impassive expression. He continued to watch, disinterestedly, the two men as they spent a few more moments conversing about him, and his pen, before turning to leave. He watched carefully as the Director and Councilman walked passed the young agent. She stood to attention, impassive as a statue, as the Councilman strode quickly by, as if she were diseased and he sought to distance himself from her as quickly as possible. At least Fury had the decency to flick his eye towards her as he passed.

She slowly walked back inside, unfolding her chair with slow deliberate movements and sitting down carefully, staring forward with dead, unseeing eyes, her shoulders slumped, her entire posture looking defeated.

Even a with a heart of ice, Loki could feel something for this miserable creature, even if it was only pity.

"Was that your father?" Loki asked after a few moments.

"Yes," was the calm, clear reply.

"You must favour your mother, then?" he pried carefully, hoping to cheer her up.

"I wouldn't know. My mother is dead, and I have never seen her picture," Moreau replied in the same even monotone.

"How did she pass?"

"Birthing my brother and me. We were twins."

"And your brother?"

"Stillborn. Asphyxiated by his own cord."

"Have you no other family?"

"No. Just the Councilman."

For once, Loki did not know what to say. Councilman Moreau compared his living daughter to the ghost of a child who never even took a breath of air, and dismissed her accomplishments as if shooing a fly. Even Loki could see that she was a skilled infiltration agent. If he hadn't have happened to be staring into space in the direction of the air vent she had crept through this morning, he would never have noticed her arrival.

"Your father is entirely unpleasant."

"The Councilman is an important man," Moreau replied robotically.

"You defend a man who dismisses you like an insect?!" Loki asked incredulously.

"He is my father," Moreau 'explained' in her monotone, as if reciting something she learned by rote a long time ago. "He has provided well for me. It would be ungrateful of me to not defend his honour."

"You are a fool, Agent Moreau!" Loki declared throwing his hands in the air and turning away from her.

"I know…" came the barely audible reply.

"Then _why_?!" Loki demanded spinning around to look at her again. "If you know you are a fool, why do you not change?"

"I've tried," Moreau replied, holding back an hysterical laugh. "So many times… I can tell you exactly how many times I have stood up to my father."

Moreau stood up and walked up to the viewing wall of the prison. "This is what happens when I disobey my father, or bring him shame."

She turned away from the glass, unzipping her jumpsuit to her hips and pulling her arms out of her sleeves. Loki came closer to the glass and was appalled at what he saw. All across the white flesh of Agent Moreau's back were the faded stripes of whipping scars. Up on her left shoulder blade, there were twelve deeper scars, obviously from something being burned into her skin.

"He gave me this when I was six years old," she said, reaching up over her left shoulder with her right hand to push her bra-strap down her shoulder, and tap on the first, oldest scar. "Little girls are to be clean and neat, seen and not heard."

Loki took in the scars with bile rising in his throat. "You never tried to run away?"

"Scars four, six, seven, and ten," Moreau replied. "Ages eight, thirteen, sixteen and seventeen."

Loki put a hand up on the glass between them, shocked beyond belief that a man could inflict this upon his own daughter, especially from such a young age.

"What was number twelve for?" he asked softly.

"I only scored ninety-nine percent on my entrance exam for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Moreau replied as she pulled her jumpsuit back on. "I hold the record for the highest entrance score, but the Councilman demands perfection."

Loki was sick to his stomach. He was glad his breakfast had not arrived yet, or else he knew it wouldn't have stayed down.

"For all you may judge me for killing people," he swallowed before he continued. "I have never inflicted suffering like this on any creature. The Councilman is a monster. I will gladly dispose of him when I take what is mine and rule this planet."

As Agent Moreau turned around to face her charge, zipping her jumpsuit back up under her chin, she gave a faint smile. "Thank-you. For all I disagree with your words, I appreciate the sentiment behind them."

"I will bring you his head on a pike, Agent Moreau," Loki replied. "Whether you say you want it or not, I will kill him for what he has done to you."

Just as Loki made his grand declaration, the official bearing his breakfast arrived. Agent Moreau returned to her seat by the door and her book as the meal tray was put into an airlock into the cell.

"You should dine with me, Agent Moreau," Loki suggested suddenly as the official left the room. "I know that you did not finish your breakfast earlier, and that was my fault. Now I have a greater understanding of why you spoke the way you did, it would be remiss of me not to make amends. Please, come sit with me."

"I didn't show you my scars to make you be nice to me, Loki," Moreau replied softly. "There is no need for you to change your behaviour on my account."

"There may be no need, but there is the desire to," he admitted. "I would like you to join me. If you wish not to, I understand. Even if you will not eat, would you at least come sit by me? It has been too long since I had amicable company for a meal."

Agent Moreau knew in her mind that Loki was only manipulating her. He didn't really feel any remorse for her plight. She knew that. She only showed him her scars so he would think he had a hook with which to snare her (and, admittedly, in a vain attempt to make him appreciate his own family a bit more). She wanted him to think that she was bending to his will. It was sad and pathetic, but she was enjoying somebody being nice to her for a change. She would play along with his game, just to preserve the last shreds of her sanity. She was manipulating him, just as much as he was manipulating her. She appeared to consider, and have an inward battle with herself for a moment, before relenting.

"Okay, then," she replied, giving a shy smile. She grabbed a some fruit, and cheese and crackers she had prepared as a snack out of her bag and went and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the glass.

Loki brought his meal tray and sat opposite her, legs also crossed, the tray balancing in his lap. The food was surprisingly nice. He had been expecting some half-cooked, mushy, slop the first time he was brought a meal, but, to all appearances, he was being fed the same, good quality food as everybody else aboard this craft. The tall man and the little woman sat and ate in silence for a few moments before a question sprang to the Asgardian's mind.

"What is your name, Agent Moreau?"

"You just answered your own question, " Moreau replied, swallowing a bite of nectarine.

"I meant your first name," Loki clarified, taking a sip of water.

"Moira."

"Moira?" he asked, tasting the name on his tongue.

"Moira," she nodded back, peeling a section of her fruit with her teeth. "Moira Moreau"

"Does it mean anything?"

"Bitterness," came the reply.

"Has your father _ever_ shown you _any_ kindness?" Loki asked angrily, stabbing a piece of sausage harshly.

"He let me have books," she replied. "It's how I learned about you."

"Well, at least that's _something_!" Loki muttered into his scrambled eggs. "Would you indulge me, Moira, by telling me some of what you learned about me in your Midgardian books?"

"One things the books seem to have gotten right was your vanity…" Moira replied lightly, nibbling on a piece of cheese.

Loki chuckled back. "Would you not wish to learn what somebody had learned of you, if you were the subject of myths and legends?"

"I suppose I would," Moira acquiesced. "What would you like to know?"

* * *

**Author****s**** Notes:**** Not much to say for this chapter... **

**Please Review! :3 ~ Kalliope**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything except Agents Moreau and Jameson. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders. **

**Authors Notes at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

Loki and Moira spent the rest of the day talking amicably. Moira would tell Loki the stories she'd learned as a child, and Loki would laugh, correct the stories, and tell her more tales that she'd never heard before. Moira had fetched her notebook out of her bag, and was writing notes as they spoke together. By dinner time, she was sitting on the floor her side against the thick glass wall of Loki's prison, her book in her lap, nibbling on a sandwich. Loki sat at right angles, facing her, his legs crossed, and prodding at his own dinner on his lap. Moira was chuckling as she finished her notes, and she leaned her forehead on the cool glass as she turned to regard her charge.

"I used to believe in you, you know," she said after a moment's pause, her features soft and sad.

"How do you mean?" Loki replied with a light frown, taking a sip of water from a clear, plastic cup.

"Well, I'm an atheist, I don't believe in any gods or goddesses. But you, I used to want to believe in you. When I was a little girl. I used to think, if there was any god that I wished were real, it would be Loki, the Trickster. The one who humbled the mighty, not through strength, but cunning. The Jotunn who tricked his way into Asgard and became a part of a mighty pantheon of warriors."

Moira trailed off sadly, staring into space, sighing softly. Loki didn't know what to say.

He cleared his throat and began softly, "I apologise if the reality is not as fantastic as the stories." He had actually come to find this strange girl and her fanciful tales almost endearing over the past few hours, and was perturbed to find that a tiny part of him had almost started to care what she thought of him.

Moira quirked that small, half-smile of hers. "You're real. Even if the stories are inaccurate or exaggerated, you do exist. I feel… Validated." She scoffed softly and muttered to herself, "validated because my childhood hero is a mass-murderer who wants to conquer the universe… Way to pick them, Moreau…"

"Reality is often harsher than the fantasies of a child," Loki snipped in response, throwing this empty meal tray back into the little airlock.

"More often than not," Moira agreed, putting her own rubbish in her bag and taking Loki's tray out of the airlock. "Still, you can't fault your ambition. 'Man's reach should exceed his grasp'."

"In one breath you condemn my actions, the next you laud them," Loki look confused and aggravated. "Make up your mind, woman!"

"I said I admired your ambition," Moira clarified. "I still condemn your actions, but they are necessary for your to achieve your ambition. A means to your end."

"You admire my ambition, Moira?" Loki asked with an unreadable expression.

"Who doesn't want to be king of the universe?" she shrugged in response.

"Do you?"

"No. Not anymore. The fantasies of children have no place in the adult world," Moira quirked a sad half-grin. "Besides, I'd be a queen, not a king."

"Semantics," Loki waved a hand dismissively. He was surprised to find a question niggling in the back of his mind. "Moira?"

"Mmn?"

"Who was Jameson?"

Moira sat quietly for a moment, and Loki was worried for a moment that she was going to clam up on him again. "He was my friend."

"Just a friend?"

"My only friend. He was the only person I'd ever met who wasn't afraid of the Councilman's influence, and didn't just wish to use me to further his own agenda. He was kind to me. He would sit with me when we ate, partner with me for assignments, we would study and train together, and share confidences. He was an orphan. Went to military school his whole life. He was bullied, just like me, but we stuck together. Unfortunately, he was already dealing with depression. One day, he couldn't take it anymore, and he jumped off the runway. Kingston, Olivier and Saunders were the main antagonists in his life, so now they see fit to make me feel guilty for his death. Saying he did it to get away from me, and that he wasn't really my friend. Either way, he's dead now."

"You have a miserable life, Agent Moreau," Loki observed, making Moira scoff a laugh. "Why do you not kill yourself like that boy?"

"I'm a coward. I fear if I do it wrong that I will suffer, or just cripple myself and keep on living. And besides, so long as I'm alive, there's a slim, shadow of a chance that one day I will do something to make the Councilman proud of me, and I can start living for real," Moira explained. "Either that, or I'll get my thirteenth scar, and it won't matter any more."

"What is so special about your thirteenth scar?" Loki asked, making a disgusted face at the memory of the marks on her shoulder.

"Thirteen is my lucky number. I always promised myself that if I got thirteen scars on my shoulder, I would let my mind snap. Just to see what happens. If there's one thing about myself I'm proud of, its my self-control and ability to appear sane."

"You think you are mad?"

Moira turned to look at Loki once more with her cold, lifeless eyes. "Not a day goes by where I don't think of trying to slaughter everybody on this stupid flying boat. I hate these people. They either victimise me, or do nothing to prevent others from doing so. It was easier when I had Jameson; he gave me hope. But it was a false hope. I see that now. So I will carry on, until I die, or until I get my thirteenth scar."

"So why do you wait?" Loki asked softly. He was eminently pleased with the way the conversation was going. This girl was a ripe target for manipulation, especially against S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Self-control. Even if nobody here is my friend, there's a lot of innocent people, with families whom they love and are loved by, on this boat. They don't deserve to die just because I'm not happy in my life. S.H.I.E.L.D. has still given me a purpose, and something to work towards. And I know deep down that I will fail in my attempt. It's easier to just keep on as if nothing fazes me. I'll just continue to strive towards being the best agent S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever seen in the meantime. It's a hobby…"

"Something tells me you're not telling me everything, Moira…"

"Of course I'm not. We might both be prisoners on this boat, but I'm not insipid enough to let you manipulate me, Loki."

"You wound me."

"You underestimate me. I'm human; not stupid."

"I never said you were stupid."

"Out loud."

"Now you're just being difficult."

"Yep."

Loki shook his head and flopped ungracefully onto his back. "Here I was thinking we were making progress."

"I'd apologise for the disappointment, but it wouldn't be sincere."

"At least you are honest."

"Thank you."

"Moira?" Loki sat back up at a thought, and she turned to look at him again. "If you didn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D., what would you do?"

"I don't know. I never had a choice in the matter," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity."

"Evidently, but what is the agenda behind the curiosity?"

"There is no agenda. I was simply curious," Loki responded, although it wasn't entirely truthful. He had some strange urge to get to know this woman better. He told himself it was so he could better manipulate her. Loki was watching her as they sat in silence once more, and she stared into space, looking away quickly when she moved to check her watch.

"I'm afraid that's my shift over for today, Loki," she sighed softly.

"Must you leave now?" the question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Yes, I must. Sorry," Moira stood up to leave, dusting her legs off. "I can't afford to have the higher ups thinking I'm colluding with you."

"Then I shall wish you a pleasant evening, Lady Moira," Loki stood as she did, giving a short bow. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Loki," Moira smiled softly at his manner. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," he responded with a charming smile. He watched her as she collected her bag, and walked out the airlock door, surprised to find he was saddened by her leaving.

_Get a grip!_ he chided himself. _She is a pawn to be used. Do not get attached!_

He found her story so sad and pathetic, that he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. Part of him wished for her thirteenth scar so that he could see how she would react, how she would snap. Another part wanted to prevent it from happening, wanted to protect her. He scoffed out loud at this realisation, beginning to pace about his cell once again. He knew Barton would lead the strike any day now. A small part of him hoped that Moira would be with him when it happened. He didn't want her caught in the crossfire.

_Idiot!_ he railed at himself. _At least if she's dead, she won't be such a miserable little wretch anymore!_

He continued to pace and plot for the next few hours, before deciding to try and sleep. He sat down where he stood, laying down, looking up at the roof, and waited for sleep to claim him. He woke but a few hours later from sheer discomfort, grizzling to himself, he tried to roll over into a more comfortable position when he noticed a silhouette over by the control panel. He stood up silently and went to investigate. It was Moira. Curled up into a little ball, her back against the railings, and leaning against the glass wall of his cell, fast asleep. She was still in her uniform, and her hair was slowly coming loose from its tight bun.

Loki knelt down to inspect the woman. She looked pale, but sleep softened her features, making her look serene and peaceful. Without thinking, his hand bumped the glass as he tried to brush a lock of hair out of her face. He withdrew his hand quickly once his mind caught up with his actions. But curiously, he didn't bang on the glass to shock her into wakefulness as he planned. Instead he went back over to his former sleeping spot and attempted to go back to sleep himself. He wondered if she would still be there when he woke in the morning.

* * *

**Authors Notes:****Warnings for fluff? **

**Please Review! :3 ~ Kalliope**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything except Agent Moreau. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders. Contains a scene almost verbatim from the Avengers Movie.  
**

**Authors Notes at the end of the chapter.**

**Warnings for Violence.**

* * *

Moira awoke the next morning feeling slightly stiff from the cold of the metal and glass she'd slept against. She stretched her arms and legs out, giving a silent yawn as her eyes adjusted to the light and she looked around. She froze stock still when she saw Loki sitting opposite her his legs stretched out in front of him, hands in his lap, his own head leaning on the glass. He appeared to be asleep, so she quietly crept out of the holding bay through the air vents she entered by last night and went to the bathroom to wash her face and fix her hair.

By the time she returned by the proper door, Loki was awake, talking to Agent Romanov. Moira jumped as he slammed his hand on the glass and growled at the senior agent. She stayed in the shadows as he spoke, biting her lip to keep herself from telling Loki that he was walking straight into the Black Widow's trap. She had a marvellous interrogation technique, one that Moira herself was studying carefully to emulate. She'd never actually seen the agent in action before, though. It was fascinating to watch as she played the meek, cowed woman while Loki stormed straight into her trap with his head held high, totally oblivious that he was not in control of the situation until Agent Romanov had all the information she required.

"Thank-you, for your co-operation," Agent Romanov said by way of farewell to Loki, before leaving the holding bay, barely noticing Agent Moreau on her way passed.

Moira walked up the stairs to fetch her bag, not making eye contact with the furious Asgardian.

"You were watching, weren't you?" he demanded of her.

"I saw some of it," Moira admitted.

"Why did you not tell me I was walking into a trap?!"

Moira sighed sadly before looking into his angry, green eyes and replying, "because I'm not on your team, Loki. I am an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Then you shall die with the rest of them!" he roared, feeling betrayed.

"I know," Moira said softly, shoulders slumped. "I was always going to. Even if I don't want to. I never had a choice in it." She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked slowly down the steps and out the door once more.

"Where are you going?" Loki demanded angrily.

"Breakfast," was the emotionless reply, and then she was gone.

Loki paced his cell angrily. He wasn't sure if he was mad at himself for falling into Romanov's trap, if he was angry at Moira for her 'betrayal', or if he was angry because he should have remembered that Moira wasn't 'on his team', as she put it. He had enjoyed her company over the passed day. He stopped when he realised that it had only been a day that he and Agent Moreau had been talking to one another with a degree of civility. He sat back down against the glass, one knee bent with his arm extended across it, the other leg out in front of him, and other hand in his lap. He let his head drop back against the wall with a long sigh through his nose.

_She'll be dead soon enough_, he thought to himself. It was supposed to be a comforting thought. It wasn't.

A few minutes later there was a large explosion as Barton took out one of the engines, and pandemonium ensued.

* * *

Moira was half way back to the detention level when the explosion rocked the Helicarrier, throwing her against the wall.

_Loki!_

She quickly regained her balance and ran as fast as she could back to his cell, dodging her fellow agents and debris along the way. She didn't know why she was running, but she felt she had to. Barely a few minutes later, she was approaching the holding bay. The door was wide open and she ran through. The next few seconds passed in a blur.

Moira ran through the door, without realising that there were already armed agents in the room. One took a shot at her before he realised who it was, the bullet thankfully only grazing across the top of her left shoulder. Loki was watching her as she ran up the corridor, crying out her name and running into the glass as the gun fired.

"Moira!"

The agent apologised in shock and lifted his weapon, "Agent Moreau!"

Moira dropped to one knee and held her shoulder in pain as the shot ripped her suit and opened her skin. Looking up at Loki, she took her hand from her wound, the blood sticky on her palm. She grinned a feral grin, and Loki almost thought he was looking at a different woman because of the fire burning in her stormy blue eyes.

"Lucky number thirteen," she grinned at him before exploding into action.

She was a whirlwind. Ducking and weaving with almost preternatural agility and flexibility, she took down twelve armed guards with her bare hands and a dancer's grace in just a few heartbeats. As the last body slumped to the floor with a broken neck, she giggled and turned to face the glass cage, taking a bow. Loki stood dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open.

"What?" Moira asked with a grin.

Loki stammered for a moment. "I have never seen the like…"

"Is this an appropriate moment to say 'thank you'?"

"Most assuredly!" Loki laughed the nervous laugh of a man who couldn't believe what he had just seen.

Moira's smile faded and her attitude turned sombre. "Loki, I'm going to do you a favour. But I need you to do one for me."

Loki canted his head, looking at her suspiciously. "What sort of favour?"

"I'm going to let you out."

"And what favour would you ask of me?"

"I want you to kill me."

"_What?!_"

"I want you to kill me. I know you were only being nice to me so you could manipulate me, and I know you'll probably kill me anyways, but I want to make sure."

Loki looked at her dumbstruck for a second time. "Moira.. I-"

"Do you want me to open the door, or not?" she demanded angrily.

"Why do you want to die?"

"Because I just want peace," Moira replied sadly. "I don't want to have to live a life alone anymore, or live in fear of my father. I want to be free, but I'm too much of a coward to do it myself."

Loki looked at the sad little human woman for a moment before replying. "Open the door, Moira."

She gave him a small, sad smile before turning and stepping over the bodies of the fallen guards to access the control panel. It only took her a few moments to open the door, and as the bolts retracted, she stepped back over to Loki, looking up at him expectantly. When he just stood there for a moment, looking down at her, she frowned and took his hands and put them around her throat.

"Well, come on!" she goaded.

"Moira, I can't…" he replied softly.

"Yes, you can! I'm just a stupid, snivelling human! You could snap my neck like a twig!" Moira yelled at him, tightening her grip on his hands, making them tighten around her neck. "What are you waiting for?! _Kill me!_"

"Moira-" he started.

"What? Do you want me to hit you first?!" she snarled, her right hand flying out from her grip on his hands and her throat to strike at his face.

Loki caught her wrist easily, but surprised even himself when he used her trapped wrist to pull her closer, the hand still around her neck shifting up and into the hair at the base of her skull, weaving between the taught strands pulled into her bun and tilting her head back as his lips crashed down on hers. He felt Moira go rigid with shock, but he didn't care. She tasted soft and sweet, and as she relaxed into the kiss, he deepened it, claiming her roughly.

"Come with me," he whispered against her lips as he broke the kiss.

"What?" she asked, shocked as she tried to back away.

"Come with me, Moira," he repeated, the hand that was holding her head grabbing her other wrist. "I'll take you away from all this. I'll kill your father for you!"

"Loki, no-" she started, trying to pull her wrists out of his grasp.

"Come with me!" he demanded, pulling her closer to him. At her yelp of pain and fright, he loosened his grip slightly, before adding more gently, almost begging; "Let me be the hero you thought of me as a child…"

Moira looked into Loki's eyes. The façade she could see was one of him being sincere, and he truly wanted to take her away. His eyes projected that he 'knew' deep down his plan for earth was vengeful and cruel. He needed to be at least one person's hero, instead of always being the villain. He was a brilliant liar, but she went along with it.

Her features softened, and she nodded with a small smile, one hand reaching up to cup Loki's cheek. "What's the plan?"

"Sir!" A male agent dressed in black, obviously one of Loki's ran in, holding a gun up at the woman.

"She's with me," Loki replied, and the man stood down. He quickly outlined his plan to Moira, who closed the cage door as he conjured a duplicate inside it.

* * *

They set the door to open just as Thor came running in, intending to tackle Loki back into the cage, instead passing through the illusion as the door closed behind him.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?" the second illusion asked, almost with pity.

Thor smacked his hammer onto the glass in response, intending to smash his way out. He baulked when the cage shifted dangerously, threatening to plummet towards the ground.

Loki's second illusion chuckled, before turning to the control panel. "The humans think us immortal. Should we test that?" he had just lifted the glass panel covering the disengage button when Agent Coulson appeared, killing Loki's agent, who had been left on watch.

"Move away, please," he requested evenly. He saw 'Loki's' look at the large gun he was brandishing. "You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Wanna find out?" he cocked the weapon and aimed it at the illusion, right before the real Loki had returned with his sceptre and drove it into Coulson's back.

"Noooo!" Thor's anguished cry echoed around the holding bay as Loki stepped around Coulson's dying body. Moira was white as a sheet as she saw Agent Coulson slumped against the wall, panting for breath, but she did not go to him. She stayed watch on the door as Loki went and opened the hatch and sent his brother's trap hurtling towards the ground.

"You're going to lose," Coulson remarked from the floor.

"Am I?" Loki questioned.

"It's in your nature," Coulson replied.

"Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky; where is my disadvantage?" Loki retorted incredulously.

"You lack conviction," he replied with a glance at Moira. A glance filled with disappointment.

"I don't think I-" Loki started as he advanced on Coulson, but he pulled the trigger on the weapon, sending out a blast of orange energy that sent the Asgardian flying through the walls.

"So that's what it does…" Coulson remarked to himself dryly as Moira ran passed him to go to Loki's aid.

"Loki!" she cried as she turned him onto his back. "Loki are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just…" He coughed and winced slightly as he sat up. "It's time we got out of here." He squeezed her arm gently as she helped him to his feet. She propped him up against the wall, and went back for a couple of guns.

"He's lying to you, you know," Coulson panted softly as he watched Moira fleece the fallen guards for their weapons. "He'll kill you when he has no further use of you."

Moira looked sadly at the dying man. "I know."

"Then.. Why?"

"Because I want to die. I might as well be useful to somebody who is going to give me what I want."

"You had so much promise, Agent Moreau…" Coulson despaired softly. "Instead you choose to be a puppet."

"I've always been a puppet, Agent Coulson. The only thing that has changed is the man pulling the strings," Moira replied, just as softly as she stood up, various knives and guns hanging off her person. "At least Loki pretends to be kind to me, and feigns an interest in me, unlike the Councilman. Thank you, though, for showing concern. Goodbye, Agent Coulson."

She turned away and walked back to Loki, who was now standing steadily on his own two feet.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she approached.

He nodded curtly, and Moira nodded back, motioning for him to follow her, guiding him on the quickest, safest route back to the runway, together eliminating every agent that stood in their way, either with Loki sceptre, or Moira's combat skills. They made their way back to his craft in next to no time, and were soon heading back to Loki's base of operations.

* * *

**Authors**** Notes: ****Now we're getting somewhere! XD**

**Please Review! :3 ~ Kalliope**


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